


Missed Opportunities

by Godsliltippy



Series: Something to Believe In [3]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:39:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godsliltippy/pseuds/Godsliltippy
Summary: Up from the Depths could have gone differently, resulting in a great deal of pain for the Tracy family. This is my take on what could have happened.





	Missed Opportunities

“One hundred meters.” Gordon watched the gauges continue to show the steady climb to the surface. He couldn't help the surge of excitement as he moved the controls, slowing their ascent. Virgil had them now. Shutting down the systems, he stood, reattaching his gear. His next goal was to secure the pilots and get them to Thunderbird 2. Pausing at the doorway, he turned back to the control panel. There was no getting over that view, the ache in his heart growing. Though they'd found the ship, it only served as a reminder of how much he missed its pilot. Moving back to the chair, knowing his time here was limited, he let his hand run over the hat, pulling it off the armrest. It would have to serve as an anchor until they made it home. 

 

The lights remained off in the rear section of the ship, casting shadows as light filtered in from behind him. 

 

“You're clear.” The edge was still in his brother's voice after the ordeal from earlier. Sometimes, being stuck up top while Gordon did the dangerous work left the elder brother’s nerves frayed. He didn't envy that feeling.

 

There was a whur of electronics making the hull vibrate as he went for the hatch. He frowned as the latch refused to budge. 

 

 _That's weird…_ He tried again, leaning into the handle. Nothing. “Hey, Virg, looks like the hatch is stuck. I can't get it open.”

He frowned at the hiss of static, tapping at his watch. “Virgil? Come in-”

 

He was interrupted by the sound of the engine powering up, the floor shaking. The instant he realised what was happening, Gordon knew there was no chance of getting back to the control room in time. He grasped out, trying to catch hold of anything, his feet leaving the floor. He was airborne as the ship took off, sending him careening backwards. His mouth opened to cry out, but nothing came as his head collided with the rear wall, sending him into darkness.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Virgil watched, wide-eyed as the Mechanic’s ship accelerated away from Thunderbird 2. With Gordon. Through the fog of shock he heard his voice calling out to Scott. There was no way his ‘bird was catching up to the one that was causing so much stress for his family. 

 

“I'm on my way, Thunderbird 2.” He could hear the breathlessness as his brother was obviously racing to launch. “Focus on the survivors.”

 

That's right. The cabin of the Mechanic’s ship had dropped before it had taken off, leaving the pilots bobbing in the ocean. Fingers, shaking with adrenaline found the grapples, aiming to catch the pair. The rest of the rescue was a blur of well trained movements, sliding down to open the hatch, remotely carrying the man and woman back up to TB2. He could still hear the woman's apology, her eyes soft as she realized in saving them, IR had lost one of their own. Virgil decided he hated that look. It wasn't her fault, he knew, but it was a reminder that Gordon was missing. 

 

“Thunderbird 5?” He needed an update. 

 

It took too long for John to answer, and when he finally did, the stress in his face gave Virgil the answer he didn't want. “We’ll get him back.” He wasn't sure who John was trying to convince. 

 

“What happened?” His grip increased on the controls.

 

“The Mechanic used TV-21’s engine’s.” The red head’s jaw clenched as he continued. “It's faster than Thunderbird 1. Scott almost-” Virgil watched his usually calm brother take a steadying breath. “Thunderbird 1 is on it's way back to base. Pick up the pod and get there as soon as you can. We’ll get Thunderbird 4 later.”

 

_ Once we have Gordon back… “ _ FAB.” Hiding the anxiety he was feeling, Virgil went to work securing the pod and getting his charges to the nearest authorities. 

 

OoOoOoO

 

Gordon awoke to a pulsing ache at the back of his head and he pushed himself up tentatively. It didn't take long for the memories to return, the low rumble of the floor telling him he was still flying on TV-21. He tapped uselessly at his watch, hoping to make some kind of contact. Nothing. 

 

_ Nothing like a solo mission…  _ Except this one could easily have an unpleasant ending _.  _ Standing was made difficult by the turbulents that occasionally rocked the craft, forcing him to use the wall for balance. It slowly occurred to him that getting out of the craft on his own would be a challenge, so he began to switch tactics. The Mechanic had his dad's ship, which he could potentially use to hurt people. He doubted the Hood would just want it for his collection. That being said, the obvious course of action would be to make the ship unusable. 

 

Gordon frowned at the stream of thought. Stopping TV-21 might mean permanently destroying it, although he was certain Brains could find a way to fix it. If they even got it back. 

 

That was it then. He would destroy the ship’s systems in hopes of keeping it out of the Hood’s hands. And then he'd find a way to contact his brothers.

 

Objectives in place, he quickly made his way back to the cockpit, dropping to the floor just in front of the chair. With steady hands, he unhinged the panel cover, exposing the wire compartments that controlled the plane. 

 

_ What first… _ He stared at the multi-colored strands. Although their ‘birds had been designed off of the TV-21, there were enough differences to cause him to pause at each section. His fingers traced the cables that connected to the power core, he hoped, his hand closing around the bundle as he readied to pull them free.

 

“I wouldn't if I were you.” 

 

Gordon stared at his wrist communicator, the disembodied voice sending a chill up his spine. “How?”

 

“I have complete control of your communications and this ship. Try to interfere and I will be forced to remove you.” The Mechanic spoke the threat, unwavering.

 

His hand stayed  on the cables, wondering if he should take the risk. The thought of being sucked out and free falling to his death gave him pause.

 

“What do you want?” Gathering information could be detrimental to stopping the Mechanic’s plan. 

 

“That is none of your concern.”  _ Great… _ “You are here simply to keep anyone from interfering.”

 

Right. He was a hostage. That was a problem he needed to remedy. “Well, sounds like I don't have much of a choice.” Stealing himself for whatever the villain was going to do, he began to pull at the wires.

 

A growl came from his wrist. “You were warned.”

 

The hiss from above had him releasing the wires and scrambling to the back of the ship. The fire-suppressant gas was a last resort, and only went off if the pilot had their helmet on. Apparently, his captor had bypassed that safety protocol. Grabbing his helmet, he shoved it on, attaching the air supply. It wasn't a permanent solution, however. He would run out in a couple hours. 

 

Gordon pushed off the wall, the adrenaline rush ebbing slightly. He made it back into the cockpit, glaring as the gas continued to fill the space. “That won't work.”

 

There was a light snicker from the comm. “Oh, I'm not finished. I’ll give you one more chance before I open a door.” The thought of free falling again. “You will not interfere with my plans… and I will let you go.”

 

Free to help his brothers stop the Mechanic? It sounded good. It still meant they couldn't have their dad's ship, but at least he wouldn't  be used against his family. Fist clenched with frustration, Gordon ground out, “Fine..”

 

Immediately, the TV-21 and the ship encompassing it began to descend.  _ That was fast… _ It didn't really matter where he got dropped off. One of his brothers would be more than willing to come get him. He could only hope Brains would have an idea on how to stop all this and get the plane back. 

 

“Out.” The Mechanic ordered a few minutes later. Gordon stood by the hatch, activating the release. What met him below wasn't what he had expected. To be honest, he wasn't sure what to expect, but the dark orange sand was not it. Jumping down, he nearly fell, his boots sinking into the loose granules. He was thankful for his suit, the heat of the desert minimalized by the climate control. In an hour though, those systems would be spent. It was midday, meaning the temperature was about to reach its peak. 

 

The hatch slammed above him and he had to run from the blasting sand as the jets ignited. The ship rose, leaving him stranded at the base of a dune. 

 

Gordon tapped at his comm, still watching the rapidly shrinking ships. Nothing…  _ what? _ He tried again, a little more frantic. Still, his comm refused to connect. “No no no no! Work!” Nothing he did seemed to help and he quickly began to accept the trouble he was in. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he fidgeted with the dials. Maybe the comm was out, but what about his GPS. The chime as the holomap appeared caused a whoop of relief from the aquanaut. He could at least find a place to get in touch with his family. Scanning the map, his heart sank at the lack of locations. Really, there was only one, and it was a good thirty miles away. The benefit though… it was a GDF outpost. The chance of finding a comm system there was pretty much guaranteed.

 

The sense of urgency increasing, he took off at a slow jog, determined not to burn out before be made it to the facility. His brothers needed to know he wasn't on TV-21 any more.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Alan glared at the ship outside his view port, his hands raised as he controlled thunderbird 3’s arms. Max whurred as the enemy ships arm slammed into 3’s side. He was quickly becoming consumed by the anxiety of being so close to the ship holding his brother, but unable to do anything to get him out. Scott was on his way back with the vault and it's occupant. All he had to do was keep them safe until Scott could secure the iridium. Alan could only hope his brother had a plan to get to Gordon. 

 

“Ned’s secure.” The elder Tracy's voice was steady as he reported. “I'm going to head back and-” 

 

The transmission was cut off by the loud rumbling emanating from the Mechanics ship. 

 

“What's it doing?” Alan called over the comm, watching as the orange craft began to pull back, rocketing away from them. “He’s getting away!”

 

Without waiting for his brother’s input, he pushed Thunderbird 3 forward, ready to chase after the ship and Gordon. He was vaguely aware of John's voice. 

 

“-overloading!” Alan was finding it difficult to focus on the sounds, so intent on catching up. “-coming back-” More words he should probably be listening to, but couldn't get his mind to hear. And then the enemy ship was turning, the remainder of it's arms splayed out as it charged. It closed the distance before he could move, slamming into him. They were spiraling through space, caught with their brother in the grasp of a craft that held their father's prized plane. There were screams floating through his mind as he tried to regain control. Scott trying to hold to the vault, John giving them a breakdown of their situation, and…  _ Kayo? _

 

Her comm was open and she was talking to someone. The Mechanic! She’d found him! They were going to stop him and save Gordon! But, no... There was something else. Something wrong. And then the Mechanics ship was spinning away from them, wrenched away by 3’s thrusters as TV-21 lost power. Farther now, the momentum sending it away. 

 

And then the blast, bright and terrible. He couldn't look away as the blast shook 3. There was a muffled scream as he pulled against his harness. 

 

_ No no no no! Gordon! Please!  _

 

Somewhere in his mind he knew the cry was his, but as tears streamed down he felt his thoughts slipping. Watery blue eyes were locked on the destruction before him. A choked sob.  He was drowning in the weight of loss. 

 

And Scott was there, blocking his view, holding his face between shaking hands. Words, soft words spoken in soothingly hushed tones.  

 

“I’m here-” The restraints were lifted from his shoulders, strong arms pulling him from the seat to sit on the floor. “It's going to be okay.” Held tightly to his brother's chest, he knew it wouldn't be. Nothing would ever be okay. Gordon was dead. He‘d died alone, trapped in their father’s plane. All because they couldn't save him. He was screaming again as he sobbed into Scott's shoulder, rocking with him as he tried to calm the shock Alan knew was taking over. 

 

And he let it.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Her mind was reeling with the cry that echoed through Kayo’s open comm-link. Penelope could only stare at the other woman as it cut off, Scott having made it to his distraught brother’s side. 

 

She felt her knees trying to give, grasping the side of Fab1 to remain upright. 

 

_ Gone… he’s…  _ Her emotions were betraying her. Years of honing a cool-under-pressure persona dashed by a man with a goofy smile, who could make her feel normal without even trying. Then, in an instant make her seethe with anger at an ill-placed joke. But damnit, she loved him. Had she just realised this? Was his death the only way she would let herself feel anything more than friendship? It didn't matter. She’d lost her chance to tell him.

 

“M’lady?” Parker’s hand rested on her shoulder, his eyes soft with concern and loss. 

 

She wanted to lift her chin, push everything back down and carry on. A tear escaped, and that was all it took, another following in its track. Then another. And then her face was buried in the leather jacket, her bodyguard’s arms wrapping around her as she shook with her sobs. 

 

OoOoOoO

 

He fell for the fifth time in ten minutes, this time unable to push himself back up. Fatigue, heat, dehydration, he could decide which one would kill him first. 

 

Twenty-five miles. Gordon had made it that far and was losing it in the final five. He clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself forward, knowing it was pointless. 

 

His helmet had come off some time ago after his air supply had run out. The hot, dry air had made running more difficult, forcing him to walk after a few miles. Thankfully, the rest of his suit helped protect against the sun's rays. Not the heat, though. That had started to affect him a good ten miles back. 

 

He pushed himself over, unto his back, his hand finding a compartment in his suit. For a moment, his fingers didn't want to cooperate as he fumbled with the latch. Once he heard the click, he slid his hand in and grabbed hold of its contents. The blue hat, folded neatly to fit in the pocket, sent a choked cry from his parched lips. 

 

“Dad…” He unfolded the hat, holding it close to his chest. “I wan' go ‘ome.”

 

Minutes, or was it hours, he lay there, unable to cry, hating his body for not being able to make it. Hating the Mechanic for hurting his family. Hating the Hood for being the sole cause of it all. Gordon was letting the despair take over. There was no point in not.

 

And then there was a noise. His eyes opened, ears straining to find the source and identify it. The low rumble was getting closer. A ship. It sounded like a ship! Adrenaline pulsed through his spent form, encouraging him to get up and find help. He rolled back to his stomach, shakily  pushing himself up to stand. Apparently the rest had helped. 

 

Off in the distance, he could see it. A gray hull, hovering over the landscape, moving straight towards him. How they knew, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to complain. 

 

Hands outstretched above his head, he waved, ensuring that whoever it was saw him. Recognition was instantaneous. A GDF cruiser! The relief was intense, making his legs weak as it finally drew to a stop, landing in front of him. 

 

The rest was a blur as he was carried into the ship by strong hands. The cool air brushed his face, chilling the sunburnt skin. It was the best feeling. Except maybe jumping into the pool at home. Or the ocean. And then his mind was screaming at him to talk. He needed them to call John to let him know he was safe. He could feel the ship lifting, heading back to the base he’d been trying to find. A bottle was placed in front of his face, the instruction to drink making it through his quickly failing mind. He took a tentative sip, letting the coolness out way the electrolyte aftertaste. Another sip, a woman encouraging him not to drink too quickly. He wanted to argue, but his training was leaking through the fatigue and emotion.

 

Slowly, Gordon found his thoughts clearing, looking into the face of the GDF officer who was watching over him. “My name-” He coughed, taking another sip. “My name is Gordon. I'm with international rescue.”

 

The woman smiled, raising a hand to stop him. “We know who you are. Your uniform gives it away. My partner is contacting our CO now. They’ll get in contact with your team. Just take it easy alright?”

 

He leaned back, the weight lifting from his shoulders, although the ache to talk to one of them was still great. “How did you find me?”

 

“Our systems detected your device.” she pointed to his watch. “It was giving off a pretty weak signal, but we picked it up about fifteen minutes ago.”

 

He didn't have time for more questions as the ship landed. He really hadn't been that far away. The rear hatch opened, revealing a higher ranking officer Gordon didn't recognize. He was an older man, his face stern as he watched them disembark. 

 

“My name is Lt. Colonel Grayson. We've been trying to contact your team, but have had little luck.” Whatever uncertainty Gordon had felt about this man vanished at the sincerity in his weathered voice. “Colonel Casey has informed us of the incident in space.”

 

“Wait…” His head spun and helhad to lean a little more on the woman as she helped him walk towards…  _ oh, great… _ It wasn't that he hated wheelchairs. They were just a reminder of a bad memory. He pushed those emotions aside, trying to pull himself back to Grayson’s words. “What incident?”

 

Nodding with realization that Gordon may have missed a good portion of the day, the older man continued. “The Mechanic was involved in the theft of some very sensitive materials, including one of our own. Your team went up to retrieve the personel. It seems the Mechanic’s ship was destroyed in the process.”

 

_ Destroyed?  _ His face went pale at the thought. “What about my br- my team?”

 

Grayson nodded. “They were not injured in the blast.” He wore a frown. “However, it seemed the events had affected them greatly.”

 

Gordon's jaw tightened as he realized what could be wrong. He was supposed to be in TV-21. They thought he was still in it. The nausea that threatened to expel the much-needed contents in his stomach sent him stumbling against the woman. A second set of hands had his other arm, pulling him up and into the awaiting wheelchair.

 

“I need to talk to them.” He was breathing hard, but his eyes were locked in the Lt. Colonel. “Please.”

 

The commanding officer turned to his people, silently instructing them to follow. As they went, Gordon tried to piece together what he would say. Hopefully, just seeing his face would be enough. 

 

OoOoOoO 

 

The comm chimed for the fifth time in exactly fifteen minutes and thirty seven seconds. It was beyond her understanding why humans would repeat the same action knowing what the result would be. 

 

EOS floated down the hall, sighing as she opened the link. “Hello. International Rescue is unable to take your emergency at this time. Please contact your local-”

 

“EOS!” 

 

The AI found herself properly surprised by the voice on the other end. Logic said it shouldn't be possible, but there was no denying the image that appeared in the space before her.

 

“Gordon? How is this possible?” She needed answers to correct her programming. 

 

“We’ll talk about it later. Where's John?” As much as she wanted answers, his question was of much more importance to the both of them.

 

“Outside.” She let the worry project through her voice. 

 

He frowned. “How long?”

 

“Thirty-four minutes. Ever since Scott got Alan back home.” She knew he had another twenty-six minutes before she had to force him back into Thunderbird 5. “Do you want me to transfer you to him?” 

 

“Please.” Gordon’s voice was thick with emotion.

 

EOS chimed in response, moving her unit out through the airlock. John was still sitting where she’d left him, his eyes locked on the planet below. 

 

“John.” She tried to pull his attention away from his obviously distressing thoughts. The tear tracks were still evident over his cheeks. “John, you have a call.”

 

“Not now, EOS.” His whisper was harsh, even through the helmet. 

 

“I believe you will want to take this one.” Without waiting for a response, she patched his brother through.

 

“John…” Gordon spoke uncertainty, his image floating between her and the astronaut.  Aqua-blue eyes, red-rimmed from crying, stared unblinking at the image.

 

“EOS…” She knew that tone. “Stop. That's not-”

 

“John, It's really me.” Gordon gave his brother a lopsided smile, his eyes sad knowing how much his older brother was hurting. “The Mechanic dumped me in the middle of a desert.”

 

“Gordon?” The anger was gone, shock beginning to take its place.

 

“John, you should move inside.” She was already opening the airlock to encourage him back in. “I’m reading a drastic change in your vitals.” 

 

“Get inside, John.” The aquanaut gently instructed. She’d have to give him credit for how well he could stay calm right now. She followed closely as John stood, pushing off the surface to float through the opening. 

 

Once inside, he stared. “How is this even-” A rogue tear escaped and she watched it disappear into his helmet.

 

“The GDF found me in the desert and brought me back to their base less than half an hour ago. Colonel Casey has ordered them to allow me access to communications unsupervised.”

 

John nodded. “Good.” He pulled his helmet off, wiping away the tears that remained. 

 

“We need to call the others.” It was obvious John was trying to gain some control.

 

Gordon smiled, his tone lighter. “Yes we do. You up for it?”

 

The older Tracy gave him a sideways glare, a weary smile crossing his distressed face. “Of course.” The double airlock closed and he paused, floating in the hall, the image of Gordon following with EOS. “Are you alright?”

 

“Just a little dehydrated. And sunburnt.” She could just make out the strange tint of his face through the hologram. “Don't worry. I've got an IV and everything.”

 

“IV? Where are you?” Oh, right, she hadn't told him that part. 

 

“GDF Desert Base 39.” She answered before Gordon could even ask. “Providing coordinates now.” An indicator popped up on the globe, marking the aquanaut's location as they entered the main communications hub. 

 

“Alright, hold tight, Gordon. It might take me a little while to get through.” Shaky, but experienced hands moved across the hologram, calling up the comm-link for Tracy Island. 

 

“How come?” Gordon asked with some apprehension in his voice.

 

John sighed, his hand hovering over the comm activation. “Alan took your death pretty hard. Scott said they'd be in touch once they got him settled.”

 

Sometimes, she wished she had a better understanding of human emotion. Whatever it was in John’s sentence, it had caused Gordon to grow pale, despite the sunburn. The only reason she could concoct was that Alan had been physically affected by the death of his brother. She had been concerned for John for some time after the incident. He had decided he needed some “fresh air”. Thankfully, with his helmet. Maybe that's what they were feeling now. 

John broke the silence as his hand tapped the link. 

 

OoOoOoO 

 

“Scott?”

 

He was sitting at the end of the infirmary bed, watching his little brother's chest rise and fall. He'd been so lost in just watching, he hadn’t heard his grandmother's quiet voice. 

 

“Scott, sweetheart?” 

 

Scott finally looked up into her tired face, his expression haunted by the images and sounds from earlier. 

 

“How long has that been going off?” She was pointing at his wrist communicator, the light blinking incessantly. 

 

“I don't know.” And if he were honest, he didn't care. Alan was safely home and sedated thanks to Virgil. The medic had assured him that their little brother would be better after some rest. Virgil had left soon after, returning to their grandmother to provide comfort. Apparently, he had done something right if she was down here trying to get his attention. 

 

“Don't you think you should answer it? It could be John.” She took a seat opposite his, turning to watch her youngest grandson. 

 

Scott mentally kicked himself for not thinking about the brother up in TB5, alone to deal with everything. Shaking the thoughts away, he hit the activation mechanism.

 

John's image popped up looking annoyed and surprised at the same time.  

 

“Everything alright?” He forced the ache down as he spoke. “You planning on coming down soon? 

 

“Scott…” He looked like he was fighting the urge to scream out what he was going to say.

 

“John?” He frowned,  worry starting to develop. “You okay?”

 

“Gordon's alive.”

 

It had been said with such certainty that Scott was hesitant to dismiss the claim. But it was ridiculous. He was certain Gordon had died, trapped in their father's ship. He'd seen it with his own eyes.

 

“Hey, how about you come home and we'll talk about it?” The thought that his brother could be having a breakdown as well was sending his anxiety levels soaring. They were falling apart. Virgil was burying himself in the role of caregiver, making sure everyone was alright. Scott knew it was only a matter of time before the medic collapsed under the loss of his co-pilot. Kayo had come home, heading straight for the gym. She’d barely looked at him, but he could see the glistening of tears fighting to fall. Alan was… He stopped that line of thought, glancing at the youngest.

 

John had stopped looking at him, tapping at invisible controls. A second hologram popped up next to him.

 

Scott's breath caught. This had to be a trick. His mouth opened and closed as his brain tried to form words.  _ It's not possible… _

 

“Hey, Scott.” Gordon gave a weary smile, waving slightly. 

 

Something on his face must have alerted their grandmother as she began to move away from Alan’s bed.

 

“Scott, are you al-... Gordon?” The name was a harsh whisper as the shock of seeing her grandson alive hit her. Scott was by her side in a second, focused on helping her sit.

 

Once she was secure, he turned back to the images. “How?”

 

“Long story, bro.” An apologetic smile crossed his face. “I could really use a pick up though.” 

 

He was ready to argue, desiring an answer for the confusion in his mind, but the opportunity to physically find his lost brother was too overwhelming. “I'll get Virgil. Do you have coordinates?”

 

Gordon looked to John who nodded. “I’m sending them to Thunderbird 1 now.” It would get them their faster now that it was repaired. “It's a GDF base. They're aware you're coming.”

 

He began to move, but stopped, turning back to their grandmother. “Are you okay? I can get Brains up here?”

 

She waved him off, a tear trailing down her cheek. “Go. Bring him home.”

 

A quick nod and glance at Alan, still asleep, and he left, running towards the lounge where he hoped Virgil would be. 

 

And he was. Kayo was sitting with him. The workout had helped her calm down enough to offer some support for the medic. 

 

“Virgil!” His shout was filled with the eagerness to get to his ‘bird.

 

Sluggishly, the raven-haired brother lifted his eyes from the floor, giving his eldest brother a confused look. “Scott?”

 

“Suit up.” He was already headed towards his elevator. 

 

“What's happening?” Kayo stood, leaving his brother still sitting on the couch, confusion turning to concern.

 

Blue eyes met brown as Scott took his spot under the lamps. “John found Gordon… He's alive.”

 

As the wall began to rotate, he could see Virgil scrambling to get to his secondary elevator, knowing only one Thunderbird would be necessary. He smiled to himself, thankful that it hadn't taken any further explanation to get his brother moving. Any questions would be answered on 1. 

 

Kayo had given them clearance once they were on board, only under the condition that they fill her in along the way. Scott had been more than willing to share what little he knew. 

 

The flight had taken almost forty-five minutes with Scott pushing 1 at its top safe speed, even pushing past that as the anxiety continued to build. Once the GDF base came into view, he felt the hammering in his chest intensify, demanding that he leave his ‘bird immediately and track down their lost brother. As they touched down, it was Virgil who was out first. Understandable considering he wasn't having to perform the minimuml post-flight procedures needed.

 

Scott caught up to his brother at the bases’ entrance, a pair of officers prepared to meet them and guide them through the facility. Their pace was insufferable slow as they moved into the closest building. They were led past offices, conference rooms, and sitting areas until they came to a wide elevator door. 

 

Scott mused that this base must go fifty miles down with how long it was taking the car to arrive. Glancing over, he noted his brother’s pale complection. Reaching over, he gave Virgil’s forearm a light tap, pulling his attention as he mouthed ‘It’ll be okay’. 

 

Before them, the door finally gave a cheerful ding, the doors sliding open smoothly. And there he was.

 

“Hey, guys.” Gordon’s usual playfulness was muted by the severity of their emotions. He was smiling, sitting in a wheelchair that was pushed by another female officer. None of that mattered however as the two older brothers charged forward, lifting him from the seat, arms wrapping around his small figure. Scott didn't care who was watching as he clung that much tighter, his hand gripping the back of his brothers head just to make sure he couldn't disappear. 

 

“Guys-” Gordon's hand tapped his shoulder a minute later. “-can't breathe-”

 

Instantly, they were letting up, allowing the blond to laugh as he took in a deep breath. Scott felt the smile drag across his face as reality finally allowed him to believe they hadn't lost their brother. He was here! He was safe! 

 

It took a little more effort to remove Virgil who was determined to keep a hold of his co-pilot until they were on board 1. In the end, Gordon had been forced to remain in the wheelchair as long as Virgil could push. 

 

“Thank you for everything.” Scott gave the Lt Colonel a firm handshake as they walked up to Thunderbird 1. 

 

“Speak nothing of it.” The older man smiled, the ridges in his face betraying a lifetime of experiences similar to theirs, but with much darker outcomes. “International Rescue has done more than enough for this world. We're just glad we could return the favor.”

 

Scott nodded, smiling appreciatively. He glanced to the other officers that had followed, two of which had actually found his brother. It didn't seem nearly enough as he gave them a salute before climbing after his brothers into Thunderbird 1. 

 

The infirmary on his ship was a first-aid kit in comparison to TB2’s, but that did stop Virgil from trying to do a complete work up of the aquanaut. The medics at the base had already informed them of Gordon’s dehydration and moderate heat exhaustion, as well as the severe sunburn covering his face. They'd provided an IV for rehydration, and as far as the two older Tracy's could tell, Gordon was bouncing back to his usual self.

 

“Ehck, Virgil, I can do that.” The blond was currently trying to bat away the hand holding a green glob of aloe gel. 

 

“I know you can.” Scott could hear the ache in his middle brother's voice. 

 

“Just let him, Gordon.” He set the plane to autopilot, standing to join them in the back. Floating just behind Virgil, watching the exchange, was John.

 

Gordon sighed, dropping his arms to lay across his lap. The gel made contact, drawing a wince from the simple touch. Scott couldn't help but see Gordon at ten years old, having spend most of the afternoon in the pool. He'd been so content, swimming and practicing his laps, he’d forgotten to reapply the sunscreen. He’d spent the next day wandering around, barely able to sit for more than a few minutes. Virgil had been the one applying the thick goo to his younger brother’s back and arms at that time too. 

 

“So?” He was no longer willing to wait for answers. He knew all about Gordon being rescued by the GDF, but little else. 

 

Gordon shrugged, rubbing his hands against sore leg muscles. “I was unconscious for some of it.” This sent an alarm through the oldest brother, mirrored by the other two beside him. “Don’t worry. No signs of concussion, just a nasty headache. It's barely even noticeable now.” The frowns remained as Gordon continued his story of waking up and finding himself a hostage in the Mechanic’s plans. Scott was well aware of the consequences if his little brother hadn't tried to interfere. Granted, taking out the TV-21 could have ended with Gordon’s death as well, but he was proud of his brother for even attempting it. The gas had been a surprise. They were all well aware of the fire suppression system, but the Mechanic shouldn't have known about it. A fluke find, possibly, by the tech-savvy villain, but deep down, Scott knew that couldn't be where he left it. The Mechanic and the Hood could know more about International Rescue than they originally thought. It didn't help that the Mechanic had been listening in to their communications for who knows how long. This was something he quickly shared with the aquanaut.

 

“Makes sense since he had control of my comm.” Gordon raised the watch, frustration evident as he let it fall back to his lap. The story continued with his abandonment in the middle if the desert and the subsequent twenty-five mile trek to find a way to contact his brothers. The rest of his ordeal had already been told back at the base.

 

“What about you guys?” Scott could tell there was some hesitation in the question. Understandable, since their version had ended with Gordon's death. 

 

Scott took the reins on this one since he was involved in the majority of it. The theft of the iridium had peaked Gordon’s interest, giving light to why the Mechanic had needed a high-powered rocket. His brother frowned, stopping himself as he went to scrub his red-tinged face. 

 

“He wouldn’t have been able to do that if-” A quick hand from Virgil on his shoulder halted the blond. 

 

“He would’ve found a different way and still had you.” He smiled, giving the shoulder a firm ‘don’t argue with me’ squeeze. “You did exactly what you should have. Everyone’s safe.”

 

A cue from the cockpit had Scott moving back to his seat, autopilot disengaging as they began their approach. He frowned as he heard a started cry from behind.

 

“Wait! You mean 4 is still in the trench?” The shocking realization coupled with the fatigue of the day had the pilot laughing to himself. His brother could turn the mood of a room on its head in an instant.

 

Scott let the fussing over Gordon continue without him as he took Thunderbird 1 down. The sooner they were home, the sooner things would get back to normal.

 

OoOoOoO

 

The blanket of fog was lifting, leaving a cold numbness in its wake. Memories were struggling to resurface, panic growing as he fought to keep them at bay. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want the pain to take over again.

 

A gentle squeeze of his hand pulled him back. Probably one of his brothers. And the ache was growing again. He didn't want to wake up and face the reality his mind was telling him to remember. 

 

His body was betraying him, though, as the fog dissipated and he could hear the movements around the room. Were they all in there with him? Probably. John would be coming down to help. The pain spiked again and he could feel the tears starting to break free.

 

The hand squeezed again, urging him to open his eyes. He clenched them shut in protest. He wasn't ready. He might never be ready.

 

“Alan.” 

 

He froze. That voice wasn't supposed to be here. Maybe his muddled mind was playing tricks on him.

 

“Open your eyes, Squirt.” 

 

They were, the moment he’d told him to. The face staring back at him was an odd shade of red, making the blond hair a pale yellow. He was smiling.

 

“Gordon?” Alan blinked, unsure if this was a side effect of medication or possibly something far worse. “Am I- are we… dead?”

 

His brother laughed softly, shaking his head. “Nope, but we came pretty close.”

 

Not a dream, not dead. Alive. 

 

That declaration was all he needed, pushing himself up from the infirmary bed and launching himself at his brother. He was solid, returning the awkward hug as Alan lay half on the bed and half on his brother. Another set of hands came to rest on his shoulders, helping him sit back up..

 

“How about we head upstairs and Gordon can tell you everything over dinner?” Scott’s face showed a degree of peace Alan hadn't seen in some time. He gave his eldest brother a nod, jumping off the bed to give Gordon another, proper hug.

 

It was much later that evening when Gordon and Alan found themselves alone by the pool, the outdoor lighting taking over after the sun had set. The younger had listened intently as the tale was told once more over cold sandwiches. As he had suspected, but for other reasons, John had come down from 5, never really content to trust his comms when it came to injured brothers. He always needed to see for himself. Alan couldn't blame him. 

 

“Hey, Alan?” Gordon was quiet, his legs swaying through the water.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say. It was enough to raise a slight pang of anxiety. “What would have happened if I had… died?”

 

So unexpected was the question, it left Alan staring at his brother in confused silence. 

 

Gordon seemed to take the hint, sighing as he turned to face his only little brother. “What I mean is things could have easily gone that way today. I need to know that you'll be okay. Maybe not immediately, but that you and the guys can keep going.”

 

Alan looked away, his eyes watching the tiny waves rippling out from their legs. “I don’t know. Could you?”

 

His sunburnt face paled slightly and he shrugged. It was a ‘what if’ situation neither of them ever wanted to be in, but with their line of work, the probability of injury or death was high. Death was an inevitability. “How about a promise? We have to keep going, not just for ourselves, not just for people in trouble, but for them.” He motioned towards the group sitting in the lounge. “We focus on our family and everything will eventually be alright.”

 

As Alan watched Virgil at the piano, Grandma humming along and Scott, John, and Kayo looking over security schematics, he nodded. Maybe he could do that. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to any time soon, but he could try.

 

OoOoOoO 

 

The resurrection of Thunderbird 4 had been a lot more labour intensive than that of her pilot. Gordon had been forced to wait an entire day for Virgil to allow the dive. Even then he had been under great duress. She had been right where the Mechanic had left her; dark and alone. 

From dive to surface, it had take two hours and a spare air tank. He had attempted to hide the fatigue as he took his seat in 2, but a weary eye from Virgil told him he’d failed. 

 

A nap on the way home had warded off one once they made it back. He’d been too eager to get to work on his ‘bird. She’d been so mangled, it was hard to imagine her whole. By the end of the day, though, she'd started resembling a sub again. The next day would be mostly system repairs, minor body work, and finally a new paint job. Virgil had threatened to paint it light blue to make it invisible. He’d almost had to fight off the rest of his brothers at that idea. The sub was supposed to be visible to survivors and himself. What would happen if he lost 4 simply because he couldn't see it. 

 

Midday of the next, Brains had come to him looking forlorn, scratching the back of his head. Upon an initial sweep of the sub’s systems, it appeared a detrimental component had been lost.

 

“Like, fried? I thought the systems were self contained in case our sips got flooded?” Gordon frowned, knowing that this was going to be a significant setback in 4’s repairs. 

 

“N-not destroyed, Gordon.” Brains adjusted his glasses, a sure sign of stress. “It's g-gone. No longer inside Thunderbird 4.”

 

His brow furrowed, staring at the injured ship. “How is that possible?” 

 

The engineer shrugged. “It’s possible it c-could be at the b-bottom of the trench.”

 

Gordon nodded, blinking away images of 4 being ripped apart. The component could be anywhere down there. Something nagged at the back of his mind, however. This entire situation had been so well planned. He wouldn't put it past the Hood to take advantage of his family’s distraction. He logged the thoughts away. If the Hood had the component, there was little he could do. His focus was now on getting life back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be for international rescue. 

 

OoOoOoO 

 

She found him stretched out on a lounger by the pool, an umbrella shading his face. He had what looked like a damp towel draped over his head for a reason she couldn't understand. Quietly, she took a seat on the lounger next to his, letting the silence hang for a moment more before clearing her throat.

 

Startled, he pulled the towel from his face and she blinked, noting the redness of his skin. It took a moment for her to connect the dots, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Hello, Gordon.” 

 

He smiled, sitting up to move further under the umbrella. “Lady Penelope!” He stammered, trying to glance behind her. “What brings you here?”

 

“I would hope it would be obvious.” She kept her tone cool, her smile tilting slightly.

 

He gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry if I worried you.” 

 

“Do try not to make it a repeating occurrence.” She looked to Parker standing just inside the lounge. “I dare say Parker wouldn't take it very well.”

 

He gave a light chuckle, sending her heart spinning. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she'd heard him laugh. She made a mental note to encourage it more often. Right now, however was not the time. “Gordon.” She let the seriousness of her tone take a moment to sink in. “ _ I  _ didn't take it very well.” 

 

As he watched her, she found her gaze dropping to her hands, fiddling with the hem of her red dress. She nearly jumped when his covered hers, the warmth of it radiating up her arms. He didn't have to say anything to make her feel better. Finally meeting his eyes, she smiled. “Do try to keep yourself safe. For a little while at least.” 

 

He stood with her, as she made to leave, relinquishing her hand. Stealthily, she leaned forward, planting a light kiss on his cheek. As she pulled back, a look of bewilderment flashed over his face. “Promise?”

 

That goofy smile. Oh, how she loved it. A moment later, she joined her bodyguard, ready to head off to the event they were already late for. Hearing the splash behind her, she paused to watch the blond hair bob above the surface. He was safe, surrounded by the water and his family that he loved. There was no immediate need to worry. She would do her best to keep it that way.

 


End file.
